


The Fall

by Nightfoot



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-14 23:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightfoot/pseuds/Nightfoot
Summary: Prompt: "You have 10k words to break Yuri."  After Zaude, Yuri wakes up to realize he's been abducted by Zagi, whose only goal is to break his spirit.





	

**Author's Note:**

> File this one under " _It was a request; blame her_ ". Please mind the tags and warnings.

Yuri remembered falling. He remembered Alexei, the Adephagos, Flynn - no, not Flynn. Sodia, and then pain, and then the falling.

He wasn’t falling now, and he also had splatted into the ocean, so that was good, he supposed. Yuri took a deep breath as consciousness crept back to his mind. Unfortunately, the more lucidity returned, the more the ache in his gut solidified into a deep, sharp pain. Yuri began to reach for his stomach to press against the pain and then realized his wrists were bound behind his back. That was when he started to wonder in earnest where he was.

Opening his eyes strained his minimal energy, and didn’t provide him much more information. He was in a small, dark room. The walls were metallic, and so was the floor beneath his cheek. Thick pipes clung to the metal sheets of the wall in T and L shapes, and the only thing in the room other than himself were some old wooden crates. It definitely didn’t look like Zaude, so he had to assume someone had brought him here. Considering his hands were bound, he doubted that someone had good intentions. They had taken his vest and sash, too, and he vaguely wondered where they were because they were part of his favourite outfit.

No point lying around. He needed to get out of here before whoever tied his hands came back. Yuri pushed himself onto one elbow, but the movement caused stitches on his abdomen to pull against skin and the pain sharpened so suddenly he fell back down with a gasp. Ok, so whoever had tied his hands had also stitched his wound. He was getting mixed signals here.

Yuri groaned and tried to sit up again. This time he expected the pain and braced himself for it, and managed to pull himself into an upright position along with much gnashing of teeth. He sat on his knees, panting, and said a silent curse on Sodia for making his abdomen hurt this much. He’d get to his feet and continue his escape… soon. Just after this breather.

The door to the room swung inward and Yuri’s chance for a breather faded away. He regretted not getting to his feet because framed in the doorway was Zagi, grinning like a kid on his birthday.

“Oh, _good_ , you’re awake.”

Yuri looked up at him and against cursed Sodia for making it so unbearable to imagine jumping to his feet. “Seeing your face, I think I’d rather go back to sleep.”

Zagi laughed as he approached Yuri. “Oh, no, Yuri Lowell. There’s no time to sleep.” He grabbed a handful of Yuri’s hair and jerked his head back. “I finally have you right where I want you.”

Yuri glanced side to side. “In a dingy metal room? I mean, that’s an odd preference for where you want to have someone, but I don’t judge.”

“Ha! Keep talking, Yuri Lowell. Your time to do so is limited!”

Yuri was injured and bound with a homicidal maniac looming over him, but he wasn’t going to let Zagi see how worried he was. “Hey, ease up on the hair. It’s hard enough to maintain at this length.”

Zagi laughed again and released his grip. “You’ll have much more to worry about than your hair in a few minutes, Yuri Lowell.” He pulled a sword from his belt and Yuri braced himself, but instead, Zagi grabbed his elbow, twisted him around, and cut the rope from hi wrists. He dropped the sword at Yuri’s knees, backed up, and pulled out one of his own.

Yuri didn’t waste any time in arming himself. It was amazing how much less screwed he felt merely from holding a sword. “Not that I’m complaining, but giving your prisoner a sword is generally a pretty shit idea.”

Zagi thrust his blade forward, pointing at Yuri. “This is the time, Yuri! The fated duel we’ve been waiting for. Today, we shall have the most thrilling sword fight the world’s ever seen and prove once and for all that I am the superior swordsman.”

“You brought me here just for a sword fight?” Honestly, he wasn’t too surprised. “Have all the previous times I’ve kicked your ass not counted or something?”

“This time it’s one on one. On your feet, Yuri Lowell. I tended to your injury and now it’s time to fight me properly.”

The idea that Zagi had stitched him up while he was unconscious disturbed him, but not as much as the idea that Zagi apparently didn’t understand the concept of recovery time. Yuri delicately got to his feet, trying to move his abdomen as little as possible, and tried to make his head stop spinning once he was up. How much blood had he lost before the wound closed? He didn’t like his prospects of winning this fight.

Zagi came at him in a second. Yuri swung up the sword to defend himself and then tried to skip to the side for a follow-up blow. Tried, because he stepped too far and his skin pulled on the stitches. The stab of pain made him stumble, giving Zagi an opening to swing his sword around. He could have easily landed a major injury after such a stumble, but he held back and struck with the flat of his blade.

“What was that?!” Zagi shouted at him. “You’re supposed to give me a proper fight!”

Yuri responded with a blow of his own, but it was weak. He’d lost too much blood. Zagi easily dodged it and followed up with a punch from his metal arm, which struck him just above the stitched wound and caused such an eruption of agony that Yuri couldn’t breathe for a few second. Yuri swayed and clutched his stomach as he waited for the stars to fade from his eyes.

The rest of the fight didn’t last much longer. The most he could do was attempt defense against Zagi’s onslaught, which was hard enough when he could barely move without setting off crippling pain. Within a few minutes, Zagi slashed the back of his hand, forcing the sword to the ground, and then punched him with enough force to send him falling backward. Pain radiated from his gut after he hit the ground and it took a few seconds for his head to stop spinning and realize he was motionless.

“On your knees, Yuri Lowell.”

Yuri glared at Zagi’s shoes and wondered if his pain or his hatred burned fiercer. With slow, strained movements, he pushed himself back to a kneeling position. The dampness on his stomach indicated that at least a few stitches had torn loose. He took deep breaths and kept his eyes on the ground when he felt the blade against the side of his neck. Damn. He wished he’d just died after falling so he could have skipped this pointless humiliation of being slaughtered by Zagi.

“Well?” Zagi demanded.

Yuri glanced upward. “Well, what? Get on with it.” He clenched his fists; at least no one would know this had happened. Everyone would assume he’d died when the blastia crashed into Zaude, which was a much more dignified ending.

“Aren’t you going to beg?”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

The blade bit his neck. A droplet of blood trickled toward his collar bone. Zagi made no effort to finish the deed.

After almost a minute of waiting for death, Zagi pulled his sword away. “How dare you disappoint me like this.”

“Funny, I’ve heard that from a lot of people.”

“You put up a pathetic excuse for a fight and now you won’t even satisfactorily beg me not to kill you. You’re making this boring.”

“I’m so sorry my execution isn’t more entertaining for you. Would it help if I juggled a bit before you stabbed me?”

Zagi bashed the hilt of his sword against the side of Yuri’s head. The spike in dizziness made him lose his feeble grasp on staying upright and he hit the floor again. “This is just going to take a little longer than I thought. If you won’t beg for your life, I’ll make you beg for death.”

“Heh… anyone who’s spent… ‘nough time listening to you talk… begs for death.”

Zagi picked up the remainder of the rope he’d cut earlier. There was enough left to retie Yuri’s wrists behind his back. The rope was coarse and dug into his skin as Zagi tied them unnecessarily tight. Zagi grabbed him under the armpit and dragged him across the floor, ignoring Yuri’s futile attempts to kicked at the ground or catch his foot on something to stop him. They left the room and entered a much large space, where Yuri finally recognized where he was. The metal staircase, crates covered in sheets, splintered wooden sections of floors, dim bluish light, and heavy gears under grates in the floor all told him this was the Heracles.

Zagi pulled him underneath the metal staircase leading toward a balcony level. The stairs were supported by a pair of X-shaped iron beams evenly spaced beneath the steps. Zagi left Yuri lying between the two sets of X and fetched a rope from the piles of crates in the corner of the room. In the brief minute of being alone, Yuri attempted to wiggle toward the columns holding up the stairs so he could maybe rub the rope on his wrists against a sharp bolt to get free. He hadn’t made much progress by the time Zagi returned, tossed one end of the rope up and over a step, and then tied it to Yuri’s wrists.

He tugged on the opposite end like a pulley and jerk Yuri off the ground. Yuri grunted from the stab of pain in his gut and his shoulders, his feet scrambling to find purchase and take the strain off his arms. His heels couldn’t quite reach the ground, forcing him to put all his weight on the balls of his feet.

“Hey, come on….” Yuri tried to take a deep breath without letting his stomach move. He failed. “I’m not really into bondage.”

Zagi disappeared behind him, which put Yuri on edge. As much as he hated seeing Zagi leering at him, not seeing him raised too many possibilities. When he returned, he carried a length of pipe about two feet long and an inch or so in diameter. Zagi grinned at him and slapped the pipe into the palm of his hand. “Alright, Yuri Lowell, I have a new plan. Since you gave me such a pathetic excuse for a duel and then refused to beg for your life, instead I’m going to keep you alive until you beg me to kill you.”

Yuri eyed the pipe and estimated how much it would hurt to be struck by it. To distract himself from such thoughts, he said, “Are you gonna keep monologueing the whole time? ‘Cause if so, please kill me now.”

The pipe whistled as it swung and Yuri at least had the satisfaction of being right. Getting struck in the ribs by it did indeed hurt like a bitch. He grunted and struggled to stay on his feet, but as soon as he regained his balance, Zagi struck him again.

“You’re not getting out of this that easily, Yuri.” Relish dripped from his words as he leered in Yuri’s face. “I want to hear you beg for mercy and the release of death, and you have to mean it.”

Yuri twisted his face away from Zagi’s. “I mean it! Please! Oh, please, don’t get into my face again until you brush your teeth!”

On the next blow, he lost his footing entirely and his arms snapped back to catch his weight. His shoulders strained and threatened to leave his sockets until he managed to get his feet under him again.

“Boy, you’re really proving you’re the better warrior.” Yuri twisted his wrists to try to get more give in the knots. “Takes a real hero to beat a man with his hands tied.”

The next blow thudded into his hip and Yuri struggled to stay upright once more. The blood trickling down his stomach told him that wound had well and truly re-opened, which distracted him from worries about the internal bleeding this beating was casing. Then Zagi swung the pipe into his left elbow and he couldn’t help grunting as something popped and pain radiated up and down his arm. He barely had time to concentrate on it, though, because then Zagi struck his shins and his arms jerked his shoulders - and his newly-aching elbow - back.

Yuri lost track of how many times Zagi hit him. He’d figured he could count the bruises later, but by the time Zagi finished, so many would be overlapping it would be hard to tell. All he knew was that by the time Zagi finished, every inch of him ached. He flinched when Zagi patted his cheek, expecting it to hurt.

“Tired already, Yuri Lowell?”

“Hey… you’re the one who stopped.” His words came out slurred from the pain and swelling in his jaw. Zagi hadn’t limited his blows to just his torso.

“We’ll pick this up later, Yuri.” Zagi let his pipe fall with a clank, and then mercifully left Yuri alone.

As soon as his footsteps disappeared and Yuri was sure he was alone, he let himself groan. Damn, he’d really gotten himself into a pickle this time, hadn’t he? He still wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten here. The last thing he remembered was falling from Zaude, so he could only assume he’d survived the fall somehow and Zagi had found him while still unconscious. How did he not die from falling, though? Ah, hell, it didn’t matter. He was most likely going to die here anyway. His whole body hurt, his hands were securely bound, and he saw no way of escaping on his own. At the same time, none of his friends had any idea he was here. In fact… they probably thought he was already dead, crushed under the blastia. They didn’t even know he needed rescue. He had to wonder if some god thought falling to death was too good for him so had sent him to this limbo for a more torturous demise. Zagi was going to kill him, eventually, and he’d never get a chance to see Flynn again….

Flynn! In all the activity, he’d barely had time to think about Flynn. The last time he’d seen him, Flynn had been collapsed on the ground after a beam of light struck him. Was he ok? He’d been moving even after the wound, right? Yuri was pretty sure… he couldn’t be dead. Could he? Yuri shook his head to try to dislodge those worries, but all he got for it was a spinning headache. Years of distancing himself from Flynn after he’d left the knights, and they’d finally mostly worked things out the night before Zaude and rekindled the love they’d had as teenagers. And now he was going to get tortured to death after one measly night together. Fuck.

* * *

Hours passed. Maybe more than a day, for all Yuri could tell. All he knew was pain. The balls of his feet ached, pain throbbed up his calves, his legs begged to relax - but every time he let himself town, his weight pulled against his arms and stabs of agony through his shoulders and the elbow that now resembled a grapefruit. Stomach growled, throat begged for moisture, muscles demanded release, head kept trying to find sleep before shoulder pain startled him awake again. At least the wound on his stomach had stopped bleeding.

Yuri braced himself for arm pain and let his weight hang from his wrists. His legs enjoyed a sweet reprieve until the pain in his arms became too much and it was time to swap again. Then his arms relaxed and fresh pain shot through his feet and calves again. He sighed. In a few minutes, he’d switch again.

After when could have been days for all his aching muscles knew, footsteps announced the return of Zagi. Part of him looked forward to this merely for the change of pace of choosing whether to let his arms hurt or his legs. After Zagi pounded down the stairs and reached Yuri’s face wielding a knife, Yuri changed his mind.

“Hello, Yuri. Miss me?”

Yuri tried to look at Zagi’s face rather than his knife. “Like a bear trap on my leg.”

Zagi chuckled, gripped the sides of his shirt, and ripped it open. Buttons tore and plinked on the floor and for the first time, Yuri got a glimpse of the untidy stitches on the inch-long puncture wound on his abdomen. He supposed he had to give Zagi a sticker for making an attempt, but he certainly hadn’t earned a gold star for quality. “Hey, come on. Buy me dinner before you undress me.”

Zagi pushed his shirt past his shoulders, baring his torso. Formerly-pale skin was now mottled black and blue. Zagi eyes darted over Yuri like a dog salivating over meat, and Yuri fought the urge to squirm as cold air hit his skin. His legs shook from stress, but he didn’t feel like shifting the pain to his arms just yet. A chill ran down his spine as the knife approached his skin, but he stubbornly refused to flinch away. The blade bit into a patch of pale skin below his ribs and he breathed in sharply as Zagi dragged it through his skin.

“I love watching you bleed.”

“You should get a better hobby.” Yuri’s legs slipped and he focused on the throb of agony in his swollen elbow to distract him from the blade still embedded half an inch in his stomach. Yuri had endured a lot of injuries over the years, but anytime a blade lingered inside him was the worst.

Zagi ran a hand down Yuri’s side, stopping just above his hip. His thumb pressed a deep purple bruise and Yuri automatically flinched. “Hum… what would happen if I cut open a bruise?”

Yuri inwardly groaned. It really wasn’t his day. “It would bleed. What the hell do you think?”

“Let’s find out.”

Cutting hurt like hell. Pressing on a bruise hurt like hell. Cutting into a bruise sent needles of agony searing into his body and Yuri had to chomp down on his lower lip to keep from making a sound. After dragging the knife through the wound, Zagi poked and prodded the purple skin surrounding the cut. Yuri closed his eyes and wished for a simple monster that would bite him and the move on. Then another of his bruises received the same treatment and this time he couldn’t stop himself from twisting away the moment the knife bit him.

Zagi pressed against the cut, letting his finger force the edges of already-bruised skin further apart. “Does it hurt?” He leered at Yuri.

Yuri tried so hard to keep from whimpering that his face shook from how scrunched up it was and he could barely breathe. His arms and shoulders might as well be on fire but he didn’t have the energy to pull his legs up just now. And worse, he felt something brush against his thigh that he refused to even consider right now.

“Do you want me to stop, Yuri?” Zagi was cutting into the third bruise now and wiggled the knife.

Oh, hell yes.

“Ask me nicely.”

And hell no.

“ _Beg_ me to make it stop.”

As if Yuri was willing to open his mouth and risk moaning in pain in front of Zagi.

“Hm…. You should be more cooperative.” Zagi mercifully pulled his hands away from the bruise over Yuri’s rib, but the knife quickly returned to pierce his right pec. He dragged it diagonally across Yuri’s skin slowly, and then went back and retraced the pattern to widen and deepen the cut. Though oozing blood partially obscured it, Yuri made out the shape of the letter ‘Z’.

“I told you, Yuri.” Zagi finished the Z and began an A. “I’m going to carve my name into your blood.”

“Yeah, that’s-” he hissed when Zagi slowly dragged the knife down, “-still incredibly disgusting.” Burning pain spread through his chest. Yuri gritted his teeth and furrowed his brow. He could take getting slashed in a fight, but this slow and deliberate carving was torture. To make matters worse, Zagi pressed close against him as he worked on his carving and Yuri couldn’t deny what he felt now: something hard pressing against his thigh. The bastard was fucking erect. Yuri refused to convulse away from him even though every second the erection touched him, even through both their clothes, made his skin crawl.

When the A was done, Zagi moved on to the G.. He was making the letters huge and blocky, so the name would take up Yuri’s entire chest. Desperate to keep from despairing, Yuri reminded himself that at least Zagi didn’t have a name like Estellise Sidos Heurassein.

“Damn,” Yuri said, trying to ignore the agony in his chest, “guess I’ll have to say goodbye to going shirtless. The ladies are going to be so disappointed.” And Flynn. He couldn’t help picturing Flynn’s face if they ever had a chance to be together again. Flynn’s disgust when he saw the name crudely carved right across his chest. It was just as well Yuri would never see him again… assuming Flynn was even alive.

After finishing the I, Zagi said, “You’re mine now, Yuri.” He ran his fingers over the name, smearing blood across Yuri’s chest.

“C’mon, man.” Yuri forced himself to meet Zagi’s eyes. “Just because you write your name on something doesn’t mean you own it. Didn’t you learn that in grade school?”

Zagi laughed at that and pressed a blood-stained hand against Yuri’s cheek. “In this case, though, I do own you. I picked you up off the shore where you lay dying. The only reason you’re still alive is because I saved you. You’re living on borrow time - time owed to me. But don’t worry, so far you’ve done excellently at earning your keep.”

Yuri wanted to spit at him, but he hadn’t had any water in ages and didn’t have the moisture to spare. He settled on, “Fuck off.”

Zagi laughed, popped a finger in his mouth to lick away the blood, and left him in peace.

That is, “peace”. Once he was alone again, Yuri let out a long moan he’d kept trapped inside in Zagi’s presence. The bruises from last time had sunk into his bones, and now the fresh cuts added a new layer of sharp, burning pain. He closed his eyes and refused to look at the name carved into his flesh. Damn… he had to get out of here. Yuri squirmed as if there was possibly some position he hadn’t found yet that would let him wiggle out of the rope. Movement, of course, just triggered more pain. He couldn’t remember ever hurting like this before.

Flynn appeared in his mind’s eye, and imagined hands rubbed his strained shoulders. Oh, how he longed to see Flynn again. If Flynn only knew where he was, he would surely have already blazed in to end this agony. If only Flynn even knew he had been captured… if only Flynn wasn’t likely dead. Yuri squeezed his eyes tighter; stop thinking about that.

* * *

How many days had it been? Over a week, surely. Or a month. Time had no meaning. Zagi put only the barest effort into not letting him die, such as forcing water to his lips every now and then or giving the rope enough slack that he could crumple to the ground before the strain of hanging from his wrists actually killed him. At least he wasn’t hungry anymore. After a few days without food, his stomach had given up growling for it and just sulked away into a corner to leave him constantly weak and woozy.

Yuri hated his friends. They weren’t even looking for him! Sure, they didn’t even know he was still alive, but that didn’t change the fact that he was stuck here with no chance of rescue. Resentment flowed through his veins to fill in all the space made from blood loss. He missed his friends dearly, too. He couldn’t bear the idea that they’d never know what happened to him, or that he’d never see them again. Never see _Flynn_ again.

He lay on the floor, too sore to move. His wrists were still tied behind his back, as they had been since this ordeal started. He barely remembered what it was to have free movement of his arms. His shirt had been completely cut away days ago and now every time he shivered, dozens of injuries protested the movement. After spending the past who-knew-how-long stared around the room, he kept his eyes closed. There was nothing new to see, just more metal sheets bolted to the wall, or a partly-buckled floor that splintered sections of wood and ripped away grating to expose the clunking gears beneath. The only thing he wanted in the world was to leave the Heracles and never see it again, but the rope still ran to the ceiling and would prevent him from walking more than a few feet from the stairs, assuming he had the strength to do so.

The clunk of footsteps on metal floor echoed to the room and dread thudded through him with each step. Zagi was coming. When had he started being afraid of Zagi? How pathetic. But his entire torso was a mixture of black, blue, and red, and his limbs had their fair share of injuries too. Yuri tried to listen for the smack of the pipe striking Zagi’s palm to determine if he was in for another beating, or another round of lacerations. The name on his chest had scabbed over, so maybe Zagi was going to cut into that for a third time to ensure it scarred nicely. Yuri really hoped Zagi didn’t have the knife, but then, the alternative was getting beaten into the floor until his bones crunched, and he really hoped Zagi didn’t have the pipe, either.

When Zagi reached him, he looked down on Yuri’s misery. No pipe - cutting, then. Yuri couldn’t figure out if he was relieved or disheartened.

“Good morning, Yuri.” On his knees, Zagi grabbed Yuri’s inflamed shoulder and pushed him onto his back. His weight crushed his wrists, already pained from hanging from them so frequently.

“That’s… debatable.”

Zagi ran his thumb over the scab of the letter Z and pressed hard. “Oh, good, this seems to be coming along nicely.”

Yuri squeezed his lips to muffle a whimper. Why were humans not equipped with the ability to astrally project on demand and leave their bodies behind?

“What do you think, Yuri?” He leaned over farther, face inches from Yuri’s. He picked at a cut at the heart of a patch of deep purple and slid his fingernail into the gap. Yuri thought it was a burning knife and not just a finger as he ripped the cut wider. At the very least, the intensity distracted him the hardness between Zagi’s legs that pressed against his ribs. “Are you ready to beg me to end your pain yet?”

It took a few seconds to adjust to the blazing pain for his breathing to calm down enough to answer. He tried to focus on Zagi’s face through watery eyes. “Y-yeah… please… end it… by t-taking… a shower.” His cracked lips tore as he forced a grin. “Maybe your hair’d lie f-flat if… if you washed it for once.”

Zagi’s grin widened and he removed his finger from the bruise. “I think I’m going to be sad when I do finally kill you, Yuri.” He wiped the blood away on Yuri’s pec and then ran the hand down his stomach, igniting bruises all the way. “There past two weeks have been the most fun I’ve had in ages.”

“Have you tried crochet?”

Zagi ignored him. “But I think… there’s more fun to be had out of you.”

Yuri shifted and tried to find a position the didn’t hurt his arms. There wasn’t one. “Untie my hands and we can play Old Maid.”

Zagi’s grin just got wider. Disgusting. Did he ever brush his teeth? Yuri was relieved when Zagi stopped prodding a throbbing bruise on his stomach, but then the hand came back between his legs and squeezed through the fabric.

“Hey!” Yuri twisted his hips and jerked away like it was an electric shock.

Zagi just laughed and used his metallic hand to grab Yuri’s thigh and pulled him back while the other slipped under Yuri’s waistband and grabbed him. Electricity rushed through him and Yuri couldn’t tell if it came more from disgust or shock. The erection pressing against his side left little doubt as to Zagi’s ultimate intentions. It could be worse, he told himself as he stared at the far wall and refused to watch Zagi’s hand fondle him. This didn’t actually _hurt_. It was better than being beaten, surely.

Zagi undid the button on his pants and Yuri tried to calm his breathing. The only thing that could make this worse was letting Zagi see how scared he was. Cold air hit him as Zagi tugged his pants down enough to expose him. Yuri jerked his hips again and tried to roll away, sending needles through every injury. _It’s Flynn,_ he told himself as Zagi continued to rub him. He squeezed his eyes shut and pictured Flynn the night before they’d set out for Zaude: soft smile, warm hands, perpetually smelling of armour polish. The metal hand leaving his thigh and the rustle of fabric drew his reluctant curiosity, but he wished he hadn’t cracked open an eye to see Zagi pulling himself out and rubbing as he surveyed Yuri’s battered body. Yuri might have thrown up if there was anything in his stomach.

Zagi let him go, but only to grab one leg and one arm and heave him onto his stomach Yuri wheezed from the movement and then Zagi yanked on the rope, jerking his arms up. Yuri dared to hope the worst was over and he was just going to be left dangling on his toes again, but than Zagi grabbed his hips and pulled him up, forcing him to his knees. Yuri had a choice, then. If he let himself slump forward, his face and bruised shoulders pressed into the metal ground and the rope pulled his arms taut. Or, he could raise his back and gives his arms slack, at the expense of forcing every muscle in his torso to strain to keep from falling forward. He hated having to choose which pain to endure, because it left him feeling like it was, in some small way, his fault. Yuri elected to lean forward because at least that didn’t take exertion.

And then he stopped worrying about shoulder pain altogether because Zagi yanked his pants down to his knees and his hands gripped his ass.

“Don’t you… fucking dare….” Yuri’s wrists rubbed together in a half-ditch effort to free his hands to punch Zagi. He couldn’t move his knees without pressing his face more uncomfortably into the ground. The absolute limit of his movement was squirming, and even that hurt. Still, the idea that he was helpless to prevent this assault refused to stick. There had to be something he could do, some fight he could put up. His heart throbbed from the panic of not thinking of it yet.

A metal hand gripped his hip so hard it hurt, while a flesh thumb rubbed small circles on his ass. Something else - something hard and moist that Yuri recognized but refused to think about - tickled his ass cheeks as it pushed between them. Cracked and bruised ribs protested how hard and fast his breathing came. This was it, his final chance to think of a way out of this before Zagi did the unthinkable, but the only thing he could come up with was struggling to try to kick him away. He couldn’t get the leverage or angle to kick and the hands gripping his hips hindered his efforts of thrashing.

“Yes! Good! Keep fighting, Yuri; this is more fun if you haven’t broken yet.”

Yuri growled his frustration and trepidation. “You got a lot of experience with this, you sick fuck? No way anyone would ever take you willingly.” The words made him feel better, but did nothing to prevent the horror that came next.

Zagi thrust into Yuri and every other thought cut off with a buzz of static. Yuri was only dimly aware that a yell tore from his throat, and hadn’t consciously told his body to thrash in an effort to get away. Bones creaked, cuts re-opened, rope burned and chafed already-bloodied skin, and all of that paled to the thick intrusion ripping him open.

His screamed petered out into gasps, and then he panted, “I-is it… in yet? C-can’t even feel it.”

Zagi gripped his hips tighter to keep him still and pulled back for the second thrust. Yuri’s shout was quieter this time, but he couldn’t keep it in completely, or ignore the revulsion as Zagi’s balls slapped his ass.

Zagi’s voice slithered out as he pulled back for the next thrust. “You hate me, don’t you, Yuri?”

 _Yes. Yes, so much_. All he could do was moan in pain as Zagi slammed in yet again.

“I know you do. I can feel your hatred in every twitch.”

Yuri furiously tried to make his ass stop spasming, but he couldn’t even the tears stop welling up in his eyes so there wasn’t much hope of that.

“Good. I want you to hate me. Your hatred is the sweetest spice in the world.”

Yuri managed to gasp, “F-fuck you.”

Zagi threw back his head and laughed. “It’s the other way around, Yuri!”

Zagi picked up the pace. Yuri stopped paying attention to individual thrusts as they all blended together in a collage of agony and humiliation. He had been wrong before; this was so much worse than being beaten. He didn’t have the strength to stop himself from grunting or gasping, and it killed him to know that every protesting sound, every flinch or squirm, just titillated Zagi more. Was this really what his life had succumbed to? The great Yuri Lowell, reduced to being fucked into the floor by some wacko with too much hair dye? It was good that his friends would never know what happened to him. He couldn’t bear it if they knew about this.

When Zagi finally came with a shudder and a moan, Yuri barely dared believe it was over. Zagi’s hands ran up his back, pressing the many bruises. He hardly registered their throbs compared to the burning of Zagi still lodged inside him.

“How was it, Yuri?”

Yuri struggled to breathe. He’d never been more convinced that he actually had died when he fell from Zaude and this was hell. “Heh… finished already? What are you, seventeen?”

Zagi pulled out with a sick squelch. “Are you ready to beg for death yet?”

“What, you think your dick’s that world-changing? I can’t even tell if you’re still in.”

“Mmm, you’re still defiant. I’d hate to think I’d picked someone who broke easily as my nemesis.” Zagi wiped himself off on Yuri’s thigh and buttoned up his pants again. He hummed as he walked away.

Zagi left Yuri in his painful position. His shoulders ached and he was losing feeling in his hands, but he didn’t have the strength to lift his torso and give them a break. Fluid dripped down his thigh and Yuri hoped it was blood, but doubted it was alone. Every joint ached and he couldn’t stop replaying every disgusting touch over and over, but all he could so was sit here and listen to nearby gears. Every clink was another second in this new reality where getting fucked by Zagi was on the table.

* * *

Yuri was grateful that next time Zagi sliced new cuts over the bruises on Yuri’s thighs. It hurt, but it was better than being raped. He shouted a few profanities and put up a token effort to kick him away, just to feel better for trying, and then Zagi mercifully gave the rope more slack and let him crumple on his side. His pants were still around his knees, but with his hands tied he didn’t have much hope of pulling them up again.

Zagi returned the next day with a cup of water, which Yuri appreciated, and his favourite metal pipe to make sure none of the bruises healed, which Yuri did not. Yuri lay on his stomach and gritted his teeth. He could take this. His body was already one constant throb of pain, so what were a few more bruises or cracked bones?

What he couldn’t take was when Zagi got on his knees, grabbed his ass, and shoved a couple of fingers into him. Yuri grunted and automatically tried to shift his hips out of reach, but the metal hand squeezing his ass held him tight. _Just kill me_. Yuri didn’t want to die, but since he saw no way out of this situation, he was ready to end it rather than endure anymore. He mentally begged Zagi to kill him, but couldn’t bear the satisfaction on Zagi’s face if he voiced it. Yuri clamped his eyes shut and concentrated on steadying his breathing as Zagi rammed his fingers in and out, setting off every tear that had barely begun to heal.

When Zagi finally stopped, Yuri risked glancing back to see if his fingers were coated in blood like he suspected. Sure enough, blood smeared Zagi’s hand, which he wiped off on Yuri’s ass.

“Looks like you had trouble handling me, Yuri. How’d that make you feel? To be ripped open by someone you hate?”

“Dunno. I’ll let you know when someone with a dick big enough to do that comes by.”

Zagi laughed and said, “Is that so? Maybe I’ll have to try again to make sure you really feel it.”

Yuri couldn’t stop a gasp of, “No,” when Zagi took up position between his legs again and lifted his hips. He couldn’t go through this again. He just couldn’t.

But he did. Zagi left him alone after that, and Yuri curled up on his side and felt sorry for himself.

Time trickled by. Yuri was trapped in a limbo of desperately wanting to die but being too stubborn to give in. Sometimes Zagi seemed to have barely left before he came back to assault Yuri again (sexual or physical, and Yuri never knew which to expect), and other times the space between visits dragged for an eternity and he wondered if Zagi had died and he would be left be left to waste away here. Of course, he kept passing in and out of consciousness without notice, and his perception of time was so warped he thought he’d been here for a lifetime, so he couldn’t say with any certainty how long Zagi’s absences actually were.

Zagi’s approaching footsteps kickstarted Yuri’s fear. Feeling actual fear from Zagi infuriated him almost as much as anything else. Zagi reached him and crouched, and Yuri resisted the instinct to flinch away from him.

“Good morning, Yuri. How do you feel today?”

Yuri breathed out heavily and glared at him. “Was having a nice day ‘til you showed up.”

Zagi grabbed a fistful of Yuri’s hair and pulled his head up. “I love to see that fire in your eyes, Yuri. It’s a challenge to conquer you. I like that. I can’t wait to see you finally break.”

“Get used… to disappointment.” It was a baseless statement. It was fine to talk about never giving in, but a map of bruises and cuts that peppered his skin didn’t give his words a strong foundation. Zagi had engraved his name on Yuri’s chest as surely as a country planted flags.

The metal hand grabbed Yuri’s jaw and clenched. “I love it when you give me such defiant answers. Can your mouth pleasure me in other ways?”

Yuri’s eyes snapped alert and the insinuation, just in time for his face to be shoved into Zagi’s crotch. Even through his pants, the smell made him gag. A hard bulge pressed his cheek through the fabric.

Yuri struggled to pull his face away, but couldn’t manage until Zagi let him. He slumped back to the floor, just in time for Zagi to grab his dislocated elbow and heft him onto his knees. Yuri knelt, pants around his knees, arms pulled back, while Zagi unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his erection. The sight of it mere inches from his face made him turn his head away, stomach turning.

Zagi grabbed the back of his head and forced his face forward. “Don’t look away from me. You talk tough, but I’m going to put your mouth to other uses.” Metal fingers dug into his jaw until they forced his mouth open. Between that and the hand twisted in his hair at the back of his head, Yuri’s efforts to twist his head away proved fruitless.

“Oh, I’m going to enjoy you, Yuri. I can’t wait to see you choke on me.”

Yuri shut his eyes as Zagi slid into his mouth and over his tongue. The acrid flavour filled his mouth and Yuri struggled not to gag or risk giving Zagi any extra pleasure. Zagi released his grip on Yuri’s mouth to wrap both hands behind his head and shove his face into his crotch. Sweaty hair tickled Yuri’s nose and he began choking as his air cut off. In an instant, he decided that he would do anything in the world to get Zagi out of his mouth and the concept of consequences didn’t even cross his mind.

Yuri snapped his jaw shut and tasted blood. Zagi yelped and shoved Yuri away with enough force to make him fall over. Yuri spat blood from his mouth and grinned at the way Zagi hunched over and clutched his crotch. “Get bent you sick fuck.”

Zagi kicked him in the stomach, but the blow was weak. He then rushed off, muttering to himself, while Yuri basked in the first glint of satisfaction he’d experienced since Sodia stabbed him. If Zagi killed him after this, at least he would go out with the memory of Zagi’s yelp fresh in his mind.

It took about half an hour for Zagi to return. When he did, Yuri relished how gingerly he walks and the scent of lemon gels that hung over him. He grabbed Yuri and yanked him back to his knees. Yuri was sure what to expect, because Zagi had brought both his knife and his pipe this time. The pipe clanked to the ground.

“That’s not how this was supposed to go, Yuri Lowell.” Metal fingers pushed into Yuri’s mouth before he could reply. They pinched his tongue and yanked it out of his mouth, making him lean forward awkwardly. “If you’re going to be like that, then I have no use for your tongue.”

Zagi brought the knife to Yuri’s face and Yuri couldn’t stop shouting. Every muscle whined from his thrashing, but that pain was insignificant when the knife sliced through half an inch of his tongue. Screams and blood gushed from his mouth after Zagi released him and let him crumple to the floor.

“Well, Yuri?” Zagi kicked him in the stomach again with more force. “Was your little stunt worth it?”

Shock and pain kept him from even trying to reply. Yuri’s face pressed into the floor and he made small, pained noises as blood poured from his mouth and pooled around his cheek. Zagi shoved his fingers into Yuri’s mouth again and he moaned in protest, but this time it was only to press a scrap of fabric against the stump of tongue.

“Bite that. I’m not ready for you to bleed to death.”

Yuri seriously considered refusing and letting himself die here. Biting the rag to apply pressure made the pain spike, though it was already at such maximum levels that he didn’t notice too much. He didn’t even fight back when Zagi rolled him onto his stomach.

He did notice when Zagi rammed his pipe into Yuri’s ass. Another scream ripped out, muffled by the make-shift bandage. He immediately tried to roll away but the metal rod pinned him like a butterfly stuck to a board. The only good thing was that the cold metal soothed the fire it had caused by ripping open still-healing tears, but that didn’t make up for all the new ones it caused. Zagi pulled it out and jammed it back in, quickly picking up a fast pace. It was better than his dick, Yuri tried to tell himself. It hurt far more, but at least Zagi wasn’t getting personal pleasure from Yuri’s body. But then, how much pleasure was he getting from watching Yuri struggle?

“Does this hurt, Yuri?” He yanked Yuri’s hair to force Yuri to look at him. “Does this make you appreciate my cock?”

The only thing that might have helped him endure was to snap back with some pithy comment, but with the state of his tongue, even that tiny pleasure was robbed from him. All he could do was moan and hope the torture ended soon.

* * *

It took several days for Zagi to heal, and he used the pipe several more times in the meantime. Sometimes for beating him, sometimes for fucking him. Yuri preferred the beatings. In between, he lay on the floor and tried to melt into it. He just didn’t have the strength to keep fighting. Most of this time was spent unconscious, because even being awake was too much effort.

There was one slight improvement: he was no longer tied to the ceiling. Yes, his wrists were still bound behind his back and yes, the change came because Zagi had wanted to drag him over to a crate to try a new position with his newly healed penis, but it was something. Yuri stared at a wall, hurting everywhere, and considered that this was the most freedom he’d had in weeks. Really, he ought to do something with it. The thought of running away dangled tantalizingly overhead, but he couldn’t… could he? The problem was his hands. He was so weak from hunger and abuse and that he seriously doubted he had much hope of staying upright without using his arms for stability. He just needed to find a way to get out of this rope that had been cinched around his wrists for so long they were caked with dried blood.

Gears clinked in the distance, and Yuri got an idea. It was going to hurt, but then, what didn’t?

The hardest part was getting over there. He had to worm his way across the floor, dragging injuries over the seams of metal plates and then rough, splintered wood. Even though he was fully naked by now, Yuri no longer cared. He dragged himself to a section of floor where the buckling had caused a metal grate to peel back and expose foot-wide gears that still slowly turned as the Heracles gradually lost inertia. Yuri stared at the gears for a solid minute, their steady movement mesmerizing him. This was stupid. What kind of person intentionally damaged themselves? But then, his alternative was to stay here and let Zagi beat him to death, or starve, whichever came first. And after all, he could barely feel his hands anymore.

Yuri rolled to his back, scooted over the opening, and thrust his right hand into the gears. His left he clenched into a fist for protection, saving it from the iron teeth that gnashed his palm, splintered born, and ripped skin. Yuri’s scream strangled in his throat; couldn’t let Zagi hear. His silence meant he heard in perfect clarity how the gears crunched his knuckles into shards.

After his hand passed through the gears and came out in a gap, he rolled away before it could get sucked into the next section. Yuri panted from the fresh and intense agony, but when he wiggled his arms, he the rope felt slack for the first time. His right hand was such a mangled mess that he easily slipped it out of the ropes and gave himself freedom of movement for the first time in surely a month. This meant he could bring his arm around and actually see the bloody mess his hand had become, but he had more important things to focus on: escape.

Yuri staggered to his feet. The room spun and he clutched a wall for support. Yuri staggered through a haze of pain that barely registered. Nothing registered other than the idea of leaving. If he stopped to think about all the ways his body was broken, he would collapse. His feet moved through a vague memory of the layout of Heracles, leading him through hallways and down stairs. He moved like a zombie until he nearly fell through a doorway and hit white sand.

Outside. He squinted against the sunlight but wasn’t coherent enough to even work out where he was. He wanted to get as far away from the Heracles as possible, so he began to walk inland. If monsters found him and killed him, well, at least they wouldn’t get off on doing so.

* * *

_Dear Flynn,_

_Yuri is alive!!!! Sorry, I just had to get that out right away and I figured you wouldn’t want me to beat around the bush about it anyway. I still can’t believe it myself. This whole month, I’ve been slowly coming to terms with the fact that Yuri was gone, but it turns out he wasn’t dead at all! It’s your knights you have to thank for that. They brought him back to Zaphias this morning and came to get me because they said they found a strange man wandering by the side of the road near the coast. They said he was badly injured so I might want to see him, but when I went to the hospital room, it was Yuri!_

_Of course, that brings me to the not-so-great news. Yuri is alive, but he’s in really bad condition. Oh, Flynn, I don’t know what happened but it looks like he’s been through so much. I know you’re busy with the Knights and everything going on in the world is a lot to handle, especially because of you recent promotion, but I really think Yuri needs to see you. It would help him, I’m sure, to see you. So if you have the time, please come to Zaphias as soon as you can. Yuri and I will be waiting._

_Love,_

_Estelle_

Flynn had read the letter at least a hundred times before he arrived at the Zaphias hospital. After two weeks, Flynn had accepted that the search for Yuri in the ocean around Zaude was now a search for a body. After three, he had stopped sending out ships. Yuri was dead. He’d come to terms with that and started the grieving. He almost resented Yuri for showing up alive now and making all those tears wasted.

He spotted a flash of pink and white rounding a corner in the hospital and quickened his pace. “Lady Estellise!”

She turned back, saw him, and tackled him. “Flynn!”

“Ah!” Flynn’s arms waved as he struggled to decide where to put them. “Good afternoon, uh, Lady Estellise.”

She thankfully released him and rested her hands on his shoulders. “I’m so glad you came.”

“I set out for Zaphias the moment I got your letter. Where is he? How is he?”

Estelle’s smile faded. “Come with me.”

Flynn wasn’t sure what to expect when he entered the room, but he was certain it hadn’t been this. Yuri, or at least what he assumed must be Yuri, lay under a thin white sheet near a window. The gauntness of his cheeks made him resemble a skeleton more than the man Flynn loved. The patches of skin not covered in bruises or bandages were few and far between. Swaths of bandages covered his entire chest, and Flynn shuddered to think what else was hidden below the sheet. Worst of all was his hand, or rather, the lack of one. His right arm ended at a stump.

“What… what happened to him?”

Estelle clutched her hands. “We, um, aren’t quite sure. I wrote to you as soon as possible so I didn’t have complete details yet. When your knights found him, he was, um, naked. Just wandering down the road in a daze. They said he passed out as soon as they found him, like his body just gave up upon finding someone else to take care of him. They brought him back here and came to get me. His hand was the worst, I think. It was so mangled and broken, there just wasn’t any way to save it. I thought at first that his injuries were from falling and maybe drifting to shore battered by currents, but the wounds on his chest….”

Flynn’s eyes didn’t live Yuri during the explanation. “What about them?”

“They were obviously, um, deliberately inflicted. There was a name carved into him.”

Flynn’s stomach dropped. Ever since he got the letter, he’d wondered where Yuri had been for a month, or how he could possibly show up alive after all this time. Now, the pieces all clicked together. Yuri hadn’t been lying injured in a ditch somewhere; he’d been held captive. Someone had deliberately done this to him. Rage bubbled inside and it took concerted effort to keep his voice calm to ask, “What name?”

Estelle gazed forlornly at Yuri and whispered, “Zagi.”

Flynn’s fists clenched. _I’ll kill him_. Wherever Zagi was now, Flynn was going to find him and make him pay for this. He struggled to remain calm lest he freak out Estelle. “Has he been conscious?”

“Yes. A few times. I’m not sure how much he takes in and he hasn’t said anything, but that’s because, um… part of his tongue is missing.”

Flynn struggled not to cry. His heart ached just imagining what Yuri must have been through in the past month. “I… I see. Would you mind leaving us alone for a little bit?”

“Yes, of course.” Estelle hurried out and when she shut the door, Flynn took a seat on the side of Yuri’s bed.

“Oh, Yuri….” Flynn rested his hand on Yuri’s and rubbed with his thumb. He recognized the chafed raw skin around his wrists as signs of struggling against rope, and couldn’t help imagining Yuri desperately trying to get free.

The touch awakened Yuri, whose eyes flashed open with a gasp. Flynn pulled his hand away, in case he’d bothered him, but Yuri grasped for it. Flynn let Yuri grab his hand and hold on with the strength of an infant.

“Yuri? It’s me.”

Yuri stared at him for a few seconds and then mumbled something incoherent. Flynn caught a glimpse inside his mouth and shuddered at the mangled stump of his tongue. Yuri was always so sharp-tongued and it was hard to imagine him with crippled speech. Yuri repeated himself and after a few tries, Flynn realized he was trying to say, “Flynn.”

“Yeah. That’s right. I’m here for you.” Flynn tenderly rubbed Yuri’s shoulder, barely making contact in fear of hurting him more. “You’re going to be alright now.”

Flynn wasn’t sure if he was more reassuring Yuri or himself. Worse, he wasn’t even sure if he was telling the truth. Yuri was in such awful shape that getting him back to the cheeky bastard Flynn knew and loved seemed like an insurmountable journey. Flynn refused to give up hope, though. Stubborn-as-nails-Yuri would find a way to bounce back, and Flynn was going to stay right by his side to support him until he did.

* * *

Yuri woke up with a gasp. He reached to wipe sweat from his brow, but when nothing touched him he fumbled and smacked his forehead with the heavily bandaged stump at the end of his arm. This sent pain radiating up his forearm along with a jolt of confusion. Where was his hand? Where was Zagi? Where was-

“Yuri?”

Oh. That’s right. Hospital. Every time Yuri awoke from a nightmare, he had to re-convince himself that this was the real world and not the dream.

The only light in the room was a small blastia lamp in a corner, where Flynn sat with a package of papers. Flynn had lowered his work and was now watching him with deep concern. “Are you alright?”

He wasn’t alright at all. Sweat prickled all over his skin and he felt like he’d just teleported here from the middle of an assault. The only reason he wasn’t panicking was that Flynn was right here, reassuring him that if Zagi burst in to resume, Flynn would put a stop to it. He wanted to explain this to Flynn to make sure Flynn knew that spending the night sleeping on the couch in Yuri’s room wasn’t for naught, but he couldn’t get words formed and his mouth hurt too much when he tried. Hopefully, Flynn would see it in his eyes.

Flynn left his chair to sit on the side of Yuri’s bed. He ran a hand through Yuri’s hair and murmured, “It was a dream. You’re in Zaphias and you’re safe.”

Safe. Yuri wasn’t sure if that would ever be true. He was safe from Zagi actively hurting him, but not safe from it happening in dreams. His hand and his tongue would never be safe, because they were gone. And he would never truly be rid of Zagi, because he could feel the name etched into his skin every time he moved, and feel his hands and his cock on his skin whenever he closed his eyes.

He also felt Flynn, though. Flynn sat close and held his hand until the trembling went away and Yuri began to feel like himself again. Yuri shifted, moving closer so he could press his arm against Flynn’s thigh. He didn’t get far before stabs of pain made him stop. Flynn noticed, though, and pulled his leg up to lie sideways on the edge of the bed. He scooted close enough to wrap his arms around Yuri and press his forehead against the side of Yuri’s head.

“Go back to sleep,” Flynn whispered.

Back to sleep, into the land of nightmares where Zagi could still reach him. Yuri slowly shook his head; he couldn’t face it. Going to sleep might mean a return to Zagi’s painful and humiliating assault, even though he knew he was only prolonging the inevitable. He’d have to sleep eventually, and he doubted these nightmares would ever go away. He couldn’t do it. How was he supposed to get through the rest of his life - let alone the rest of the weeks it took to heal enough to leave the hospital?

Flynn saw his fear and said, “I’ll be here all night. If you start shaking, I’ll wake you up and I’ll be right here.”

Yuri pressed against Flynn and tried to mumble something like ‘thanks’. Yuri’s muscles were too weak to protect himself from a fly, but Flynn’s strength and warmth radiated from the arms wrapped around him. If Flynn were right next to him, he thought he could get through the night. And if he got through tonight, maybe he could get through the rest of the coming weeks of healing with Flynn at his side, too.


End file.
